


Mirror Talk

by teaspurr



Category: Original characters - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspurr/pseuds/teaspurr
Relationships: claude laurent/matheus durand
Kudos: 3





	Mirror Talk

The past year had been hell. 

Claude was accustomed to looking after other people - Matheus especially - but it took a great toll on the Frenchman to keep such a strong face through it all while his best friend suffered so greatly. Even on the good days, he could see the pain in Matheus’ eyes and the withholding of his smile. He didn’t want to be happy, even when he was, and each time his smile fell and his face went sunken again, Claude could feel his heart breaking more and more. 

But, tonight would be different. Claude had woken up with a mission, and he had made reservations that morning for them to go to dinner out on the town. Matheus didn’t leave the house nearly enough these days, and Claude knew how stir-crazy the teen could get; like a cat at a locked window. 

As dusk settled over the city, Claude got ready in the spare room - the one he had made his own the past year. He hadn’t thought he would be staying so long, so he had tried to keep it clean, all his things neatly packed in his suitcase, but now, so many months on, his clothes were in the closet, his suitcase under the bed, and the room was as disorganised as his own back in Toulouse. 

But, unlike his own bedroom at home, here, he had nothing to wear. He had wanted to dress somewhat formally, but the best he could do was a button-up shirt and jeans. A little too casual for his liking, but with his hair brushed down, still darker at the ends, there had at least be an obvious _attempt_. 

He went down the hall, tucking his shirt into his jeans. He had been going to collect Matheus from his room so they could leave, but he stopped himself before he knocked on the door, sitting slightly ajar.

Inside the bedroom, Matheus stood in front of the mirror. He was shirtless, and from a distance, it might’ve looked like he was admiring himself… but Claude knew better. 

With the state he had been in, Matheus hadn’t been looking after himself like he used too. His daily activities consisted mainly of eating and sleeping - and going out when the good days rolled around - but that wasn’t nearly enough activity to fight off the full meals Claude was feeding him. 

There wasn’t much, but the weight was noticeable, leaving his stomach soft to the touch and his cheeks looking a little fuller. 

Still strong hands traced over softening skin where definition used to be, eyes stuck where tummy tipped over the belt of his pants. Only _slightly, slightly, slightly_ , but enough to seem too much. Claude could see it in the reflection, how much Matheus resented it. He could hear Matheus’ voice in his head, blaming everyone else. 

_If his capital-hood hadn’t been stripped from him, Claude wouldn’t be there, so he wouldn’t be fat._

Everything was always someone else’s fault these days, but Claude didn’t blame him. He still remembered when his kingdom was torn apart and he was left as nothing but a small city in a sad corner of France. Although he had been a child at the time, his own reaction had been much of the same. 

Devastation was always hard received. 

Finally, Claude came into the room. He didn’t want to let Matheus indulge in self-pity any longer, but even as he came in - making a point of being noisy - Matheus’ eyes stayed on the reflection in the mirror, one he wasn’t quite sure he knew.

'Picked a shirt yet?' Claude asked, coming to stand behind Matheus. There was a few laid out on the bed, untouched, so he grabbed the nearest one, holding it open behind Matheus for him to slip his arms into. 

Still, the teen didn’t move. 

'Claude?' Though his hands now cradled his soft belly, earthy eyes found forget-me-not blue, and his voice started to waver, 'am _am I pretty?'_

The question wasn’t what the Frenchman had expected, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. Those same dark eyes fell again, taking Claude’s extended silence as truth, and his arms tightened around himself. He wanted to sink away. 

' _Yes_ ,' Claude answered simply. Dumbly. 'The prettiest. Matheus, _you’re beautiful_. You know I think' he had to shut himself up, clenching his teeth together in fear of saying too much. Claude had an awful habit of letting his feelings talk for him. 'You’re gorgeous. We’re looking at the same body, and you’reyou’re perfect. As always.'

Had it of been under any other circumstance, Claude wouldn’t give Matheus an inch to think horribly of himself. It would be so easy to sink into him, as he had only twenty years prior. It would be so easy to kiss every part of him that he held with such disdain. So easy to trace his hands over every curve and wipe away his own hate-filled touch, replaced with such love and longing, he wouldn’t be able to see himself in any other light than pure perfection. 

And he was to Claude. Perfect. Like a cool Summer morning. All dewy and bright. He would have stayed there forever. 

Matheus turned, bringing those same eyes to meet Claude’s without the glass, his lips pulled into a tight line. Although the greater part of him was unsure, deep down, Matheus knew Claude wouldn’t lie to him. Not about something so… intimate. He remembered the things that had been said all those years ago, and they weren’t far off from what Claude had whispered just now. 

He smiled. Small but sure. He took the shirt from Claude’s hands. 'You’re right,' he said, putting on his usually peppy voice, hiding any trace of sadness or uncertainty. Matheus was good at that. He could put on a strong front for almost any situation if need be. But not now. Not in front of Claude. 

'Don’t tell me that,' the Frenchman said, and with his hands to Matheus’ shoulders, he turned him around, forcing the teen to face the mirror once more. 'Tell him.' 

  
  



End file.
